


Sweetness

by AshNine



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Anger, Betrayal, Dark, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Force-Feeding, Horror, Hurt, Implied Relationships, Kidnapping, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:46:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23426458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshNine/pseuds/AshNine
Summary: Rantaro wakes up in a dark room, strapped to a chair, with just a shower head, a light bulb, stairs, and a door.
Relationships: Akamatsu Kaede/Amami Rantaro
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Sweetness

The only thing clear to Rantaro when he awoke was the throbbing pain in his head. Opening his eyes, he quickly shut them once more. The searing unshaded bulb that hung in the room burned an afterimage into his retinas, sending his mind reeling.

As a response, he moved his right arm to rub the soreness from his eyes, only to realize he couldn’t. Bound behind his back, his wrists were tied tightly, a thick woven cord holding him in place. A kick of his legs told him all he needed to know: he wasn’t getting out of this chair any time soon.

Not only that, but he wouldn’t be crying for help either. Unlike the stereotypical duct tape plastered from cheek to cheek, a doubled up strip wrapped itself around the entirety of his head. Any turning movement to study the air caused the sticky fabric to tug painfully at the hairs caught in the glue.

Gingerly, the man opened one eye, slowly attempting to adjust to the light. As soon as the smoldering discomfort faded away, he opened the other, taking in his surroundings, blinking as his eyes watered.

Concrete composed the walls around him, a drab gray color, not unlike industrial buildings. To his left perched a shower head, poking out from a haphazard hole in the wall. It dripped slightly, the sound of single water droplets falling to the floor unsettling him.

On his right sat the first steps of a stone staircase, which took a sharp turn once it hit the wall in front of him. At the top of the staircase was a single wooden door, stained and unassuming.

Other than the shower, the light, and the stairs, Rantaro was alone in an empty room.

A quick look down confirmed his suspicions. Red cord held fast around his ankles and secured them to the legs of the chair. From the look of it, his seat seemed to be just an ordinary kitchen chair. However, scuffs painted the legs, as if someone ran the lowest grit sandpaper over them and didn’t bother to fix the splintering.

Thankfully, the single bulb illuminated the room. Rantaro wasn’t sure what’d be going through his mind if they had forced him to sit in the dark... not that sitting in the light strapped to a chair was really any better. Throwing his head back, the green-haired man stared at the ceiling and took his best attempt at a deep breath, forced to exhale it slowly through his uncovered nose.

Surely, whoever put him here had no immediate intentions to hurt him. If that was the case, they wouldn’t have left him here, virtually untouched, and probably would have finished the job before he’d awoken.

Footsteps from above altered him of someone’s presence. Swallowing hard, Rantaro focused his attention on the door before him, his stomach turning over as a shadow passed over the gap.

\---

“Aw, geez. What do you mean you’re not coming?” The blonde before him pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. The motion caused her vest to bunch up, sending various wrinkles through the woven fabric.

“I gotta pick my sister up from school, sorry,” Rantaro sighed, shaking his head. Kaede always seemed so offended by his rejection of plans, taking them rather personally.

Kaede pulled her lips to the side in an upset manner. “You *always* have to pick them up. Are your parents still away?”

Nodding, Rantaro tucked his textbook into his messenger bag and pulled the strap over his shoulder. “Yeah, they’re supposed to be back next week.” With a thoughtful pause, he added, “We could reschedule?”

Rolling her eyes, Kaede stuck a tongue out at him. “You know I can’t stay mad at you. Of course we can.” With a fluid motion, she slipped her phone out of her pocket and opened her calendar app. “How’s next Monday for you?”

Mulling over it for a moment, Rantaro stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. That should work.”

“Great!” Kaede clapped her hands together, her phone blocking any sound that may have come from the movement. “Then Monday it is.”

As Kaede turned to leave the classroom, Rantaro reached out and grabbed her sleeve. “Wait, before you go.”

The pianist turned, a slight blush on her face. “Yes?”

Flustered by her reaction, Rantaro quickly released her sleeve and scratched the back of his head bashfully. “Why do you wanna hang out so bad? You know, with me?”

“I’m surprised you took this long to ask.” With a cheeky smile, Kaede stepped closer to Rantaro and stood on her tiptoes. “It’s actually for a friend. He really wants to meet you.”

\---

With a creak, the door, much in need of an oiling, opened slightly. Before Rantaro knew it, a hand had slipped into the room and flicked off the switch next to the entrance, plunging the room into darkness. The single bulb glowed slightly, the filament winding down after being on for so long.

Silhouetted by the light of the hallway, a figure filled the doorway, their long hair sweeping past their shoulders. With a single arm, they tossed a container into the room. Whatever it was, it clattered to the floor, its contents scattering this way and that.

As much as Rantaro wanted to glimpse his captor’s face, his eyes were unadjusted to the dark, splotches stamping the corners of his vision. Squinting didn’t really help either and just proved to be tasking.

The person before him cleared their throat before shutting the door behind them. Lost to the black, Rantaro could only hear them moving closer and closer. Each footstep acted as another spike into his overwhelmed brain. The soft patter of cloth shoes echoed through the lonely room.

A moment later, they were beside Rantaro. They smelled of sickly sweet soap, somewhere between a honeycomb and dusty parchment. With a quick motion, they loosened the knot on his wrists, not to where the ropes fell, but very much where he could free himself.

Leaning forward, they spoke into his ear: “Bathe.”

Rantaro’s blood ran cold. Though distorted, as if speaking from behind a filter, he knew that voice. There was no doubt about it. 

Unable to question them, Rantaro was left to struggle as they climbed the stairs and exited, a decisive locking noise ringing out. After a moment of grunting, he freed his hands and started on his legs. These were significantly tighter. Whoever tied these was surely adept with knot tying.

After a large amount of fumbling, his hands sloppily attempting to undo his binding, Rantaro freed himself. Shaking off the ropes, he stood, his spine popping in various locations. How long had it been since he stood? His aching body told him it was perhaps hours, if not days.

Next, he had to get this damn duct tape off his mouth. Carelessly, he pried at the tape, but to no avail. What he thought was one layer turned out to be multiple, perhaps four or five. They’d done a number on his binding. Realizing he’d need scissors to cut off his gag, the man gave up, saving that problem for later.

Feeling his way around the room, Rantaro slid his hand against the right wall until he found the staircase, kicking a bottle as he stumbled. Startled, Rantaro waited for the plastic to stop rolling. After a moment’s pause, he started to climb. Carefully, he picked his way up the stone steps until he reached the upper landing. With a click, the light was back on and he was left to look at the strewn toiletries.

Returning to the ground floor, if you could call it that, he picked up the bottle he’d kicked. It was the same honeycomb scent from earlier.

\---

“You promised today!” Kaede slammed her hands on his desk, sandwiching his open notebook under her hands.

Frowning at his crinkling pages, Rantaro met the blonde’s eyes, genuine upset shining through. “Sorry. We’re having a welcome home dinner tonight.”

“It’s always something with you, isn’t it?” Kaede stuck her lower lip out, pulling at Rantaro’s heartstrings.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hang out with Kaede and her mystery friend today, but obligations were obligations. “It’s not usually like this with me, I assure you.”

“Right, assurance. Because that’s gotten us so far.” With a huff, she placed her hands on her hips and stood upright. “And what am I supposed to tell him? He doesn’t go here. He’s taking the train from Yamanakako.”

Sighing, the man slumped in his seat. “Is he already on his way?”

“Probably,” Kaede admitted, annoyance tinting her voice. “He’s never late to anything.”

“Alright,” Rantaro sighed, raising a metaphorical white flag. “Alright. I’ll tell my family something’s come up.”

“Well, now I feel guilty about it,” Kaede groaned, pressing a finger to a temple. “Are you sure?”

“You just guilted me into this and now you’re doubting my choice?” Rantaro chuckled.

Face dusted a pale shade of pink, Kaede looked away from him and focused on the floor beside his desk. “It’s not that. I just didn’t think you’d agree.”

“Well,” Rantaro started, scooting his chair out from under him. With a moan, he stretched, feeling the bones in his back crack from his improper sitting position. “I’m agreeing.”

Meeting his eyes once more, Kaede’s pleasure was visible on her face. It was obvious she was biting back a smile. “Thank you.”

“Well then.” Rantaro held a hand out the blonde before him. “Shall we?”

\---

A half empty bottle of shampoo, a travel-sized bottle of conditioner, a sealed bottle of soap, a washcloth and a change of clothes.

Rantaro frowned, noting the lack of a provided towel. Gathering up his supplies, he slipped them back into the plastic shower caddy they’d given him. Perhaps it’d be better just to follow their orders until he got some answers. It wasn’t as if he’d be leaving, nor was he sure how long they’d knocked him out. A quick sniff of himself told him he smelled fine, but who knows when he’d last showered?

Casting his clothes to the side, he stood exposed to the drafty cellar. Standing to the side of the shower, he switched the water on, turning it all the way into the hot section. Thankfully, it seemed to work properly. Rantaro mentally chided himself at thanking his captor for providing a basic amenity.

Turning the shower lever, Rantaro shivered as the water cut off. Without a towel, he used his prior clothing to blot water off his body, his uniform cardigan acting the part well enough. When he’d dried off to the best of his abilities, he redressed, slipping an oversized, blue-and-black shirt over his head and on to his frame. While it was a size too big, the rest fit just fine. With sock’d and shoe’d feet, Rantaro felt significantly warmer.

He could smell it on him. Before now, he’d found delight in the smell, the fragrance quiet pleasing under normal circumstances. However, now he just felt disgusted, his stomach tumbling over and over with each breath.

Again, he worked at the tape on his mouth, wanting more than anything to breathe out of his mouth and escape the smell on his skin. But try as he might, the tape held fast, his lips pulled taut and close to one another.

Wait, that was the *least* of his problems. He needed to get out of here. The tape could come off later. Right. It’s fine as long as he got help.

Looking around the room, his eyes settled on the wooden chair. Far more scraped up than he’d initially appraised, the chair seemed as if it’d been through hell and back. The legs were the least damaged by far. Deep cuts scoured the frame up and down the backing, some deep enough to nearly sever the posts entirely. Rantaro wasn’t even sure how it could support his weight after all this time.

Grasping the chair, he picked it up. Sure, it wasn’t the heaviest, but it would have to do. Quickly, he moved up the stairs and past the door, choosing to stand next to the light switch. Flicking it off, he stood in the dark, his heart racing and his palms sweaty.

All he needed to do was wait for them to come back, hit them over the head with the chair, and then run. Nothing mattered except his end goal. He’d get out of here if it was the last thing he’d do.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be.

\---

Kaede hummed next to him, a spring in her step. Rantaro smiled, pleased with how content she seemed. If he’d known she’d look so cute and happy, perhaps he’d have asked one of his brothers to pick up his sister on those canceled days.

Noticing him watching her, Kaede looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, her smile growing into a wholehearted beam.

“You’re gonna love him. He’s a real great guy.” Kaede stuck her hands out and threw them back, clasping them behind her.

“And why’s that?” Rantaro probed.

With a thoughtful purr, Kaede put a finger to her chin. “He’s kind of a weird guy. He likes culture and stuff like you. He reads a lot of history books.”

Thinking of the books he carried in the moment, Rantaro laughed slightly. He chose to ignore the weird comment. “Yeah, that sounds a lot like me. What else?”

“Well, he’s quiet, but once you get him talking, he doesn’t really stop.” Kaede giggled. “He tends to apologize for getting carried away.”

“This is hitting far closer to home than I thought it would.”

“I’m telling you, you’re going to get along great!” Kaede pumped her arms in the air, newfound resolve on her face. “And if you don’t, I’ll make you!”

Snorting, Rantaro patted Kaede on the head, earning him a sound of surprise from the blonde. “Right, right.”

“Geez, stop doing that.” Though her words seemed annoyed, Kaede hid her embarrassment by looking away from Rantaro.

Shrugging, he pulled his hand back and rested it on the top of his shoulder bag. “I thought you wanted me to be your big brother?”

“Th-that was years ago! I’ve grown out of that!”

Rantaro smirked, thinking back to all of her complaining about her clothing growing too small too quick. “Just like you’ve grown out of everything else?”

For a moment she was silent before sudden realization spread across her face. This caused Rantaro to break into a laughing fit, his hand clasped over his mouth. As if sunburned, her pale skin turned a bright red. With balled hands, she hit Rantaro on the arm twice, crossing her arms over her chest in perhaps what was an attempt to hide it. “Hey! Don’t say it like that!”

“My apologies,” Rantaro forced out between laughs.

Storming off in front of him, Kaede put a considerable length between her and Rantaro. “Just hurry up, already!”

Sighing longingly, Rantaro picked up his pace. “Yes, ma’am.”

\---

As the moments ticked by, Rantaro felt his heart rise higher and higher into his throat. By the time he heard more footsteps, it was sitting against his voice box, his Adam’s apple painfully pounding with worry and anticipation.

After what sounded like a slight mishandling of keys, the correct one slipped into the knob and turned. Rantaro tightened his grip on the chair, counting in his head. As the door opened, a figure stepped inside.

In a blind rage, Rantaro counted to five and slammed the chair down on the person in front of him. Breaking over their head, wooden shards flew this way and that, sailing through the air in no organized manner. The figure slumped over, no sound escaping from their throat.

It was then he realized it was a decoy. 

A wig stand, with long, knotted hair toppled to the ground, as the wire frame, clattered down the stairs and to the cellar floor, before coming to a stop MD plunging the room back into silence. They'd seen through his plan. 

Suddenly, hands placed themselves on Rantaro’s chest and pushed him back and over the railing. Arms reeling, he reached out for something, anything to hold on to. As he flipped over the rail, Rantaro gripped a post, his hand painfully sliding against the unfinished wood. Dozens of wooden slivers embedded themselves into his skin, causing him to cry out in pain from behind his gag, muffled beyond compare.

Hand holding fast to the rail, Rantaro looked down for a moment at the unseeable ground. The floor was surely fifteen feet below him. If he was lucky, he would end up with bruises. However, with concrete as his cushion, a broken ankle was far more than likely. Lord know he'd never escape if he couldn't walk. 

More pain added to his hand had Rantaro blinking away tears. They were stepping on him, digging their heel into his hand in an attempt to get him to release the railing and fall. Despite the soft cushion of slippers, his attacker held fast and pressed against his splintered fingers, the pain white light in his head. Throwing his arm above his head, he latched on to another post of the banister, hissing in agony at the simple movement.

With a sigh, his captor flicked on the light, a look of disappointment and irritation illuminating their eyes. Lifting a leg, they placed it on the railing and kicked as hard as they could. With the pressure of their strength and Rantaro’s added weight, the thin wood snapped. Before he knew it, Rantaro fell.

The last thing he saw was an amused expression and a broken rail tumbling down with him.

\---

“What’s your favorite thing to eat?”

Rantaro thought for a moment, nothing coming to mind at any point. “Not sure. Probably something with vinegar.”

Kaede stuck her tongue out at him, faking an expression of disgust. “Gross. Of course you’d like vinegar.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rantaro quirked an eyebrow at her.

“You like weird things. Like snails.”

Rantaro fixed his tie, clearing his throat. “It’s called escargot, and it’s a delicacy.”

“It’s still snails,” Kaede pointed out.

A soft bleep from her phone caught her attention. Stopping in her tracks, she pulled out her phone and let out an irritated sigh. Punching in a response, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“What’s up?” Rantaro asked, peeking over her shoulder.

She’d pulled her phone up to a text message, from someone named ‘Kiyo’. “He’s already left the station. He said it’s better to meet at my place. It’s quicker than hitting the station just to backtrack.”

Rantaro nodded. That made sense. “So then, to your place?”

Kaede put her phone back in her pocket before turning on a heel and starting in the direction they’d come from. “Yep! So, like I was saying, really, vinegar?”

“I don’t understand what your issue with vinegar is.” Rantaro shook his head in disapproval. “It’s great on plenty of dishes.”

“I don’t deny that, but it’s just not my cup of tea.”

“Well no, it’s not tea. It’s vinegar.”

Kaede stopped for a moment before narrowing her eyes. “Can you not?”

Grinning, Rantaro gave her a small pat on the shoulder. “Never.”

\---

When Rantaro came to again, the room was unbearably hot. It seemed he was out of the cellar and in a place more open to natural lighting, the room lit by something far more kind to his eyes than the bulb from before. Much to his disdain, his tape continued to gag him and they’d re-tied his wrists behind his back. 

However, they weren’t as giving to him this time. Instead of a seat, he was on the floor, stretched out like a slug. Though, he was on tile instead of concrete, a significant step in a better direction in terms of cleanliness, but still just as cold and unwelcoming.

Footsteps from behind informed he wasn’t alone. Quickly, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of a knife on a cutting board. The radio played a chipper tune in the background. They hummed slightly, keeping in rhythm with the song’s tempo, chop after chop.

After a moment, he heard a scraping noise, like metal on steel. The horrific sound raised every hair on his body. Goosebumps broke out over his skin. 

“I know you’re awake.”

Startled, Rantaro barely opened his lids. They stood in front of him, feet snuggly tucked into a pair of galaxy slippers. Gently, they nudged Rantaro with their toes, rolling him further on to his back. Rantaro opened his eyes and met theirs. His suspicions confirmed, he silently pleaded to his captor. His eyes welled up, threatening to spill over. He needed to express his hurt and confusion. Kneeling, they held the chef’s knife firm in their hand, pointing the blade down.

“You’re confused?”

The green-haired man nodded, agreeing with their question. Best to be compliant when threatened and bound. 

“I apologize, but I can’t tell you anything just yet. Why don’t we talk over dinner?”

Furrowing his brow, Rantaro didn’t nod nor shake his head. With a sigh, they stood up and returned to the counter and out of Rantaro’s field of vision. He had no intention to eat anything they made for him. 

“... do you like onions?”

Rantaro remained silent and still, not granting an answer. 

\---

“Then what about you? What do you like to eat?”

Kaede hummed for a moment, her thinking face in place. Rantaro thought this action was quite cute. “I don’t know. Venison is pretty good.”

“Really? Every time I’ve had it, it’s been gamey.” Rantaro raised an eyebrow at the blonde.

“That’s surprising. I just heard you have to soak it in milk and it fixes that.”

Rantaro tilted his head at the girl beside him as they walked at her pace. “Since when are you a chef?”

Kaede rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be a chef to like to cook.”

Rantaro pursed his lips and shrugged. “You’re right, but it’s not often you hear about people eating venison.”

“It was my dad’s favorite. He cooked all kinds of meat. He taught me how he liked to have it…” Kaede trailed off, leaving the thought hanging.

“...was?” Rantaro ventured.

“Ah, right.” Kaede shook her head and cupped her hands. “He died about a year ago.”

\---

As the scent of carrots and basil filled the air, Rantaro’s stomach grumbled. Though they'd drawn the curtains in front of him, the few waning shadows told him all he needed to know; it was about sunset.

When was the last time he ate? If it was still the next day, then it’d probably been at least twenty-four hours since his last meal. Even that was pretty pathetic; Rantaro wasn’t sure if you could call a single piece of toast and a watered-down cup of cranberry juice a meal.  
Closing his eyes, he tried best to keep his mind off of food and keep it literally anywhere else. Unfortunately, his thoughts kept lingering back to the concept.

Carrots. Onions. Basil. Vinegar. Meat. Water. 

Thirsty. He was so thirsty. 

Everything sounded delicious at this moment. Hell, if you’d placed a raw stalk of cauliflower in front of him, it’d disappear before the tape around his mouth detached. 

With the sound of a gas stove lighter, a chorus of sizzling pops graced the air, filling the room with the aroma of caramelized onion. If Rantaro could, he’d be drooling.

Was he in a kitchen if some sort? That seemed likely. 

After stirring around the morsels, they plopped them into water, the sloshing sound of soup being stirred an absolute orchestra. With a clear of their throat, his captor stepped close and crouched down close to Rantaro’s ears.

“I expect you to behave if you want any answers.”

Rantaro eyes them cautiously. As much as he wanted to escape, he craved the knowledge behind their situation. With strong arms, they helped him stand. Though not untied, they granted him a chair. He sat. 

Quickly, his ropes were adjusted to incorporate the wooden frame, binding him to it. Hopefully, this chair would be sturdier than that before. His body screamed as the knots were pulled tight, his skin on fire and his bones battered and bruised, but thankfully not broken. 

Though, with the adrenaline pumping through his body, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell even if they were.

Before long, they placed a piping hot bowl of soup in front of him, steam wafting off the surface. Though he vowed to not touch a thing they served him, he couldn't help the roar of his stomach and the pain he felt inside. Looking away from the table, he focused on his feet. 

Carefully, they helped to remove his gag, cutting away at the tape with delicately trained fingers. Once free, Rantaro immediately berated then with a spew of questions, lingering on a singular, most pressing one. 

“Why are you doing this?!” Though usually calm and collected, Rantaro snapped, all his anger and betrayal bubbling forward in one fell swoop. 

They clicked their tongue. “You haven't even eaten anything yet.”

Filled with poorly veiled disgust, Rantaro steeled his eyes. “I'm not eating that.”

“You know,” they started, picking up the bowl with tender hands. They walked closer to him. “It's rude to reject your hosts offering.”

Rantaro kept his mouth shut. He could tell what she was doing here. 

As she was before him, she grasped his face firmly with a hand. He tried to pull away but it was no use. Squeezing, she pulled open his jaw. Without hesitation, she shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. 

Rantaro's tongue was on fire. It was as if molten lava had been poured into his mouth, the soup boiling hot. He tried to spit, but she fastened her hand over his mouth. Breathing through his nose, he swallowed. It trailed down his throat, burning every inch along the way. 

“See,” Kaede smiled, tilting her head. “That wasn't so bad, right?” 

Not thinking straight, Rantaro opened his mouth to further question her, earning another searing spoonful. Coughing, the liquid filled his nasal cavity, dribbling out his nostrils. 

“Way to make a mess,” Kaede chastised. Turning around, she reached for a towel. "Imagine if anyone else saw you like this? That'd be pretty embarrassing."

Using the moment to the best of his abilities, Rantaro struggled against the ropes. However, instead of standing up, he toppled to the side, landing in a painful crash to the floor. Silently, he wished this chair had been as broken as the one from the cellar. 

“You-” Kaede jolted around, narrowing her eyes. 

“Just what are you trying to accomplish?” Rantaro's eyes lit like the fire from the stove. “Let me go. Now.”

“Oh, Rantaro,” Kaede sighed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She started down at him in pity. “You know I can't do that.”

“And why not?” he spat. 

“You see,” Kaede started, walking over to the man on the floor. Holding out her hands, she gestured to his pathetic state. Carefully, she started to set him upright. He let her. “You're home now.”

“I have no clue what you're talking about.”

Kaede paused, pressing a finger to her chin. “Did you like the soup?”

Rantaro laughed, annoyed. “You burnt off all my taste buds. How could I like your damn soup?” 

Mouth pulled into a frown, Kaede shook her head. “No, no! You're doing this all wrong!” 

Rantaro stared, blinking twice. 

“You're supposed to thank your host for the food. Geez, don't you know proper manners?” Kaede huffed, crossing her arms. 

“Because you're one to talk.” Rantaro wiggled uncomfortably. “You kept me in your basement and tied me to a chair.”

“Listen, it's necessary. You'll run off if I don't.” She almost seemed hurt at the idea. 

Rantaro shook his head, baffled. Something wasn't adding up. “If you wanted me to eat your soup that bad, why didn't you just ask me?” 

“Oh, it's not that simple,” Kaede giggled. She walked towards Rantaro and cupped her hand around his ear. "I just wanted to keep you all to myself."

\---

When she didn’t say anymore, Rantaro stopped her and gently pulled her into a hug, his nose pressed against the side of her head, lost to her fragrant hair. She smelled of honeycomb and music parchment, a pretty, pleasing smell suiting Kaede.

With trembling hands, she wrapped her arms around his torso and held fast, burying her face into his neck. A beat passed before they parted, Kaede’s eyes shining with appreciation. Sliding her hand down his arm, she slipped her hand into his, entwining their fingers sloppily.

Baffled, Rantaro’s surprise showed on his face. Though he held fast, savoring the warmth of her skin against his.

Hand in hand, the two trekked the rest of the way to Kaede’s house. As they climbed the steps of her stoop, she dropped his hand to rifle through her bag. Grasping her keys, the multiple brass charms jingling as they knocked together, she unlocked the door.

Stepping aside, she motioned for Rantaro to enter. With a duck of his head, he stepped in the doorway. A clack was head, the door shut behind him and Kaede dropped her backpack in the entryway. Bending down to take off his shoes, Rantaro set his bag on the floor.

Before he could finish the task, everything went dark.

\---

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Kaede’s voice was filled with childish glee, her smile stretching from cheek to cheek. “I'm not quite sure what else you're expecting me to say.”

Rantaro stared at the bowl left on the table for a moment, the sickening realization bubbling to his chest. He was hit with a wall of disbelief. “You're joking, right?” 

“Why would I joke about that? Don't you think this is too far for a dumb joke?” Kaede pointed out. 

Rantaro tried to find words, but they failed him. His eyes darted from the table and back to Kaede's face. “I…”

“Well, I didn't have any meat left over.” the blonde hummed as she walked back to the table and took up the bowl once more. "So I figured mushroom soup would be best!”

"You know I don't care about the soup!” Rantaro sounded yelled, his voice breaking, sounding foreign, as if he'd never heard it in his life. To drive his point home, he trust himself against the table, knocking the bowl over and splashing the hot liquid everywhere, vegetables and mushrooms spewing this way and that. 

Kaede squeaked and grabbed a towel, attempting to soak up the damage. 

“Why?” Rantaro's voice was shaking. He was on the cusp of tears. Any moment, he'd snap. 

“Geez…” Kaede pouted. “If you didn’t like it, you could have told me.”

“Answer me!” 

Kaede paused for a moment, before lowering her voice. “We were getting lonely.”

"...we?" Rantaro glanced up at her, his vision distorted by salty tears. She stretched her face into a grin. To think, that was the grin that had sent his heart aflutter time after time.

No. This was different. This wasn’t Kaede. This wasn’t *his* Kaede. This was some sick, deranged monster.

“Could you at least help me clean up? I’m expecting company tomorrow.” Kaede took a step back, gesturing to the mess on the floor. “I can’t just leave it like this.”

Between sobs, Rantaro choked out, “Clean it up yourself!”

Kaede sighed, shaking her head. With puffed cheeks she stepped towards him once more. “You’re the one that made the mess!”

“No.” He was firm in that decision.

“Do you really have a death wish?”

Rantaro gulped hard. Right. If she… did that then that means she'd… 

"What happened to your father?”

Kaede blinked, surprised. “What's that have to do with this?” 

Rantaro spat at her. “Just answer the question!” 

Rolling her eyes, she nodded, biting her lower lip nervously. “Dad was first. It was harder to keep him quiet, so we had to part early.”

“Who else?”

Kaede sighed. “You all ask the same questions…” Taking a deep breath, she continued. ”Dad, then Kaito from middle school. He left some nice slippers.”

Rantaro glanced down at her galaxy clad feet in disgust, his sobs wracking his body. 

“After Kaito was a girl named Angie. She left that paint caddy that had your shower stuff. She was far more annoying than I'd ever imagined. I like boys better.” she paused for a moment before finishing her thought. "They usually don't ask too many questions."

Rantaro didn't want to hear this. He wanted anything else. But he had to know. 

“Then it was Kiyo.” With a sparkle in her eye, Kaede winked at Rantaro. “I think you get the point I'm making.”

“I'm… next?” Rantaro’s train of thought zoomed by at a mile a minute, failing to stop at the station.

“Great deducing!” With a flourish, Kaede presented a taser. “I knew you had it in you. Hopefully,” she said, popping the 'p'. "You'll be the last."

“But why?”

“Mmm…” Kaede spun a strand of hair around her index finger. “I love you a lot. I can't stomach the idea of not being with you.” 

“You're *killing* people. You're… you're-” Rantaro stopped short, not wanting to repeat the phrase. 

“A murderer?” Kaede laughed. “You act like I'm the first person to ever kill someone.”

Rantaro felt all sanity escape from his body. With as much strength as he could muster, he rocked his chair. Even though it was useless, he had to try. He had to try. 

“Would it kill you to make this easy on me?” Kaede snorted. “Oh wait… I suppose that was in poor taste.”

Rantaro stared blankly at the floor. Was this it? This wasn’t like television, where the cops burst in at the last moment and rescue him. No, real life wasn't that kind. It was raw, unfair, and revolting.

“If you don’t have anything else to say, let’s get you back downstairs.”

Before Rantaro could reply, she took aim. Springing forward, prongs dug into his flesh and sent tens of thousands of volts into his body. All movement ceased, as Rantaro’s head slumped forward against his chest, his muscles twitching. He fought to keep conscious. It was futile. The world around him spun, shifting out of focus. 

Kaede bent down and brushed a lock of hair out of his face and behind his ear, her delicate fingers like razor blades on his skin. 

With a wistful sigh, she cradled his cheek in her hand. 

“I look forward to our time together.”

And like a blanket, the darkness settled over him once more. 

\---


End file.
